


nobody should be sick all alone

by parsnipit



Series: jaspvid week 2020 [2]
Category: Camp Camp (Web Series)
Genre: Additional Warnings In Author's Note, Aged-Up Character(s), Angst, David Acting as Max's Parental Figure | Dadvid (Camp Camp), David Needs a Hug (Camp Camp), Fever Dreams, Fluff, Hallucinations, Hurt/Comfort, Icky, M/M, Protective Max (Camp Camp), Sick David (Camp Camp), Sickfic, jasper is grown bc we do Not ship kids and adults around here
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-27
Updated: 2020-05-27
Packaged: 2021-03-02 20:40:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,846
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24412987
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/parsnipit/pseuds/parsnipit
Summary: David hasn’t been this ill in a long, long time—but at least he has Jasper there to comfort him through it! After all, being sick and left alone is one of the worst things David can imagine.
Relationships: David/Jasper (Camp Camp)
Series: jaspvid week 2020 [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1762963
Comments: 18
Kudos: 98





	nobody should be sick all alone

**Author's Note:**

> warnings: illness, nightmares, hallucinations, allusions to child neglect, mentions of child death

David does nothing halfway—including illness. When he wakes up, he’s a shivering, feverish mess. His hair hangs limp and lank, sweat plastering soft ginger strands across his forehead and temples. His eyes, when they finally pry themselves open, are dark and glassy. They roam across the room, bleary and unfocused, until they finally settle on Jasper. “G’morning,” he mumbles, a smile (albeit a tired one) on his face. 

“Hey there, hot stuff. Good morning.” Jasper sits up slowly, the blankets pooling in his lap. He reaches out, smoothing David’s hair away from his eyes and wincing when he feels the heat rolling off of his husband’s forehead. “Looks like somebody caught the bug. Let me guess, one of the kids had it?”

“Nerris,” David says, sighing and leaning into Jasper’s hand.

“You were with her?”

“I couldn’t let her be sick all alone. Nobody should be sick alone, and I think she was scared,” David says. “So I made her soup, and we played her game—um, Dungeons and Dragons? I don’t think I did very well, but she said it was hard to play with only two people, so we gave up and ate popsicles instead. She was feeling better yesterday.”

“That’s good.” Jasper hums softly, carding his fingers through David’s hair and tracing gentle circles across his scalp. David’s eyes drift shut again. “I still wish you hadn’t come down with it, though.”

“All part of the job,” David murmurs.

“Kids are little germ monsters.”

“Nooo, they’re not monsters.” David rolls onto his stomach, then reaches over to snake his arm around Jasper’s waist. Jasper takes the hint for what it is, beginning to rub slow, soothing circles across David’s back and shoulders. “They’re just little people.”

“Okay, but c’mon— _sometimes_ they act like monsters.”

“So do adults.”

“Alright, fair point,” Jasper admits, chuckling. He pats David’s shoulder once, then stands. It takes a momentous effort to ignore David’s pathetic whine as he does. “I’ll be right back, okay? I’m just gonna go get some stuff to make you feel better.”

When Jasper returns to the counselors’ bedroom, he has a basin of cool water, a washcloth, a thermometer, and a bottle of ibuprofen. David narrows his eyes suspiciously at the medication—he’s always been far more holistic than Jasper, hasn’t he? Jasper sits again, the old mattress springs creaking beneath his weight. He pats David’s hip.

“Hey, roll over,” he says. “Let me check your temperature.”

“I don’t want the medicine.”

“I know, I know. I’ll only make you take it if your fever’s above a hundred and three and we can’t get it down within the hour. Sound fair?”

David rolls over, nodding. “Hmm, okay.”

“Atta boy.” Jasper snags the thermometer off of the bedside table, rubbing a thumb across David’s bottom lip to coax his mouth open. He slides the thermometer in under his tongue, and David wrinkles his nose in displeasure. When it beeps, Jasper pulls it out and glances at the numbers on the display. “Hey, homeskillet, that’s really not great.”

“What is it?”

“Not great,” Jasper reiterates, reaching for the washcloth. He dips it into the cool water, then wrings it out until it’s only damp. “I’m gonna drug you in half an hour if this doesn’t work.”

“What? But you said an hour,” David whines, rubbing his face. Jasper takes one of his hands, beginning to wipe the washcloth across his arm. “That’s no fair.”

“It’s a hundred and four,” Jasper says, and David winces. “I’m not playing around with a temperature that high. Medicine is good.”

“Fevers are good too,” David argues. Jasper shoots him a sharp look and his shoulders slump. “…but not fevers that high, I know.”

“Half an hour.”

“Half an hour.” David leans his head back against the pillows, sighing softly. As Jasper continues to rub cool water across his arm, he shivers. “‘s cold.”

“I know, Davey, I’m sorry.” Jasper sets the washcloth aside for a moment to help David pull his shirt off, folding it neatly (David will fuss if he doesn’t) before setting it on the ground. He massages the washcloth in circles across David’s chest, his mood souring as he sees the scars there. He hates that. He hates remembering what this camp has done—and continues to do—to David. 

“Don’t be mad.” David reaches up, setting a hand on the side of Jasper’s face. When Jasper glances at his face, he sees David’s lower lip wobbling precariously. “Jas? Please don’t be mad.”

Jasper sets a hand over David’s, his heart twisting. “Hey, hey, hey, no. I’m not mad, sweetheart. There’s nothing to be mad about.”

“I’m sorry I got sick.”

“No, you don’t have to be sorry for that. Everybody gets sick sometimes, and you were doing a nice thing, taking care of Nerris. I’m not upset at you.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Shh. I know.” Jasper gently eases David’s hand back to the bed, reaching up to dab at his cheeks and forehead with the washcloth. “I know you are, but you don’t have to be. I’m not mad.”

Jasper knows exactly who he has to blame for the fear in David’s eyes, then, and he blames her wholly and entirely. David’s mother has always pissed him the hell off—as has David’s stubborn admiration for her. Who the fuck looks at a sweet kid like Davey, tired and ill, and has the nerve to _scold_ him for getting sick? Or worse, to leave him alone? Jasper knows that’s what terrifies David more than anything, when he’s sick—being alone.

That’s why Jasper’s here, after all.

“I’m right here,” he reminds David quietly, rinsing the washcloth off before smoothing it across David’s throat and shoulders. “I’m here, and I’m not going anywhere. I won’t leave you alone.”

David sniffles, his eyes watering. “Hug? I know I’m all gross and sweaty and so if you don’t want to it’s okay but I just thought I’d—”

Jasper lays down next to him, drawing David into his arms and nuzzling into his hair. David’s arms snug themselves tightly around him, and David exhales a shaky, relieved breath into his shoulder. For several minutes, Jasper indulges him, tracing aimless shapes on the back of his neck and humming nineties’ pop under his breath. Eventually, however, the burning heat in David’s skin reminds him that he has a job to do.

“I know, I know,” Jasper soothes as he pries himself away from David, despite David’s miserable whimpers. “You know I’d love to snuggle you all day, but I’m afraid you might just fry up if we don’t keep an eye on this fever.”

David relents, albeit sulkily—he’s always grumpier when he’s sick, and Jasper can’t blame him. Jasper continues to wipe him down with the washcloth, and when he’s finished that, he brings David a glass of cold water. David gulps thirstily at it until Jasper urges him to slow down, lest he make himself sick. When their half-hour is over, Jasper takes his temperature again.

“Hm.” Jasper’s mouth twists down into a frown.

“What?” David tugs anxiously at his shirt. “Is it bad?”

“Well, it’s gone down some, but not much. It’s still over one-oh-four.”

David groans.

“You’re a big baby,” Jasper teases gently, reaching out to tug his ear. He rattles a pair of ibuprofen pills into his palm, then offers them to David. “Here, take these. Ah-ah-ah, no complaining. We agreed. If _this_ doesn’t cut it, I’m shoving you into an ice bath.”

David shudders, quickly downing the pills before flopping back against the pillows. 

“Radical, dude!” Jasper says cheerfully, ruffling his hair before capping the pill bottle and setting it back on the table. “We’ll give that a little while to kick in. I’m gonna go get some fresh water—I’ll be back in a jiffy.”

This time, when Jasper returns with a basin of fresh, cool water, he finds David asleep again. He pulls a chair up to the bedside, keeping as quiet as he can—David needs all the rest he can get, and Jasper’s not about to keep him from it. He dunks the washcloth in water, then wrings it out and sets it across David’s forehead. After that, he takes David’s hand, rubbing his thumb gently across the back of it, and waits.

A couple of hours later, David jolts awake with a wild flinch. Jasper, who had been lovingly reviewing his collection of Pogs, nearly jumps out of his seat. 

“Woah, woah, take it easy, Davey,” he says, standing and reaching out to take David’s shoulders. David stares up at him, wild-eyed. His chest heaves, crackling unpleasantly with every breath before he dissolves into a ragged coughing fit. Jasper makes a soft, sympathetic sound and sits next to him, rubbing his back until he can breathe normally again. “There we go, that’s it. It’s okay. It’s just me, you’re alright.”

David, shivering violently, takes Jasper’s hand and squeezes. “I had a b-bad dream,” he says, his eyes darting frantically around the room. “A really bad dream.”

“I’m sorry—but hey, it was just a dream. I know how weird fever dreams can be, but they’re not real, and everything’s okay now.”

David swallows hard, nodding miserably. “Yeah, I—I guess.”

“Do you wanna talk about it?”

“I, um.” David wrings the blanket between scrawny, shaking fingers. “I dreamed you were dead.”

“Well, we know that’s not true!” Jasper says, patting David’s back briskly. “I’m right here, after all. How could I be dead?”

David shakes his head, wiping his eyes. Jasper notices, alarmed, that there are tears spilling down his cheeks. “It was—at camp, and you—you—he k-killed you!”

“No, no, Davey, nobody killed me.” Jasper reaches out, cupping David’s face in his hands and smoothing his thumbs under his teary eyes. “I’m right here, I’m just fine. We’re _both_ just fine.”

“No, he did, he killed you! He sent us over there, he hid the bombs, he k-killed you!” David reaches up, tangling his fingers into his own hair and tugging. “Y-you were just a kid, you shouldn’t have—you should never have been over there alone—and—and I _trusted_ him! It was all my fault, and I never even got the chance to say sor-orry! I’m sorry, Jasper, I’m s-so so sorry!”

Jasper hugs him, cradling David’s head protectively against his chest and pressing a soft kiss to his thatch of hair. He rocks them both, slowly and steadily, as David cries himself out. “Shhh, shh-shh-shh,” he murmurs. “It’s okay. I’m right here. Nobody hurt me, nobody killed me, and you have nothing to apologize for.”

“H-how do I know it isn’t real?” David looks pleadingly at him. “How do I know anything is real?”

Oh, boy. Jasper really needs to check his temperature again.

“Hey, _this is real,”_ Jasper assures him. “You know how I know?”

David sniffles miserably. “How?”

“Because if it wasn’t, how would I have this?” Jasper holds up his left hand, pointing to the thin silver band around his ring finger. “How would you have such vivid memories of our wedding—which was, by the way, the best day of my life?”

Frowning, David glances at his own left hand—at his own barren ring finger. “But I don’t—”

“Yours is in the bathroom,” Jasper reminds him. “You took it off to shower last night, remember? You must have forgotten to put it back on because you were already feverish.”

“O-oh.”

“And if I had died as a kid, why would I be an adult now?” Jasper continues. “How would you know what an adult Jasper even looks like? I mean, c’mon—I still have my LA Gear light-ups! You couldn’t possibly imagine that I’d wear those my whole life. It’s so ridiculous it has to be reality. Plus, if Mr. Campbell had killed me, why would he have adopted you?”

David hesitates—then, slowly, he begins to nod. “Y-yeah. Yeah, that wouldn’t make sense.”

“But he _did_ adopt you, because he loves you, and he wants you to be happy. Killing your childhood best friend wouldn’t have made you happy, would it?”

David shakes his head adamantly.

“Good! Then he couldn’t have done it. Listen, I know I don’t really like the guy, but—” Jasper lifts one shoulder in a half-shrug. “Campbell’s not _that_ bad, and I know he makes you happy. A swell guy like you deserves a good dad, Davey. And you know what else?”

“What?” David asks, looking hopefully at him—the tears have nearly cleared from his eyes now, Jasper’s pleased to see.

“Now, this is our little secret,” Jasper says, glancing around them and lowering his voice conspiratorially. David leans in to hear. “But if this wasn’t real, then how would I know that the kids are planning a get-well party for you right now?”

David’s eyes sparkle. “Are they? Oh, my goodness, that’s so thoughtful of them!”

“They love you, Davey. You’re always there for them, you help them learn, you give them the best summer they could possibly have! Of course they’re gonna care that you’re sick. But you didn’t hear that from me, okay? They try so hard to pretend they don’t like you—kinda like someone else we know, huh?”

“Heh, yeah.” Fondness flickers through David’s eyes. “Max.”

“And you know what else? If this wasn’t real, you wouldn’t have even adopted Max—and I _know_ you did, because you’re the best dad that kid could ask for,” Jasper says firmly. “He loves you. There isn’t a reality out there where that isn’t true. It’s just not possible.”

David takes a deep, shaky breath and nods. There’s a small smile on his face, now.

“So you see? All of this is so _perfect,_ Davey,” Jasper says. “It’s everything you’ve always wanted. There’s no way you could just imagine something so right. So? Does that make you feel better?”

“Yeah.” David smiles at him, although it’s shaky. “It does. Thanks, Jas. You always know just what to say.”

“What can I say? I’m all that and a bag of chips.” Jasper winks, then reaches for the thermometer. “Now c’mere. I need to check your temperature again because I’m pretty sure you’re hallucinating.”

As David sits up, the door to the counselor’s cabin thuds open.

“David!” Max shouts, stomping into the bedroom. “Are you alive in here? Holy fuck, you look awful.”

David chuckles, wiping his eyes. “I’m okay, kiddo,” he says. “Don’t worry. Just a little under the weather—nothing a little rest won’t fix. Hey, shouldn’t you be with Gwen?”

Max shrugs, scuffing the floor with one untied sneaker. “Nah. They’re doing _political science_ camp, and since I’m already pretty good at dictating this shithole of a camp, I figured I’d skip and come pick on you. But, uh—are you sure you’re not dying? Because you really look like you’re dying.”

“No, I’m okay.” David beams at him, his eyes crinkling up at the edges. Then he glances over, looking warmly at Jasper. “Jas has been taking good care of me.”

Max follows David’s gaze, his eyes sweeping through Jasper. “..what?” he asks, a frown—well, a deeper frown than usual—on his face.

“Jasper. He’s been here since I woke up. He’s really good at taking care of sick people, so you don’t need to worry about me. You can go back to your, uh—” A smile flickers across David’s face as he thinks about their secret get-well party, no doubt. “Political science camp.”

“Have you taken anything today?” Max asks, climbing up onto the bed and pressing a hand to David’s forehead. “Food? Water? I dunno, _medicine,_ like an actual functional human being would when they’re this sick?”

“I had water and ibuprofen,” David informs him. Max’s eyes dart towards the empty bedside table, the worried crease between his brows deepening. “Really, it’s okay! I appreciate that you’re worried about me, but you shouldn’t be here too long. We wouldn’t want you getting sick, too.”

“Yeah.” Max slides back off of the bed. “I, uh—I’m gonna go get Gwen.”

“No, no, you don’t need to do that,” David hastens to assure him. “She’s busy with the kids. It’s just a little cold, and I’m already feeling a lot better. I’m sure Jasper has a handle on things if I get any worse. Right, Jas?”

“Right, Davey,” Jasper says, smiling warmly at him. 

Max’s eyes fix on Jasper and look right through him. There’s fear in his eyes, now, and he moves quickly for the cabin door. “David, _stay,”_ he orders. “I don’t wanna have to track down some hallucinating gimp in the woods all afternoon, and somehow I doubt you’d survive it, either. You’d probably roast alive before you made it to the lake.”

The door slams closed behind him, and David winces.

“They must be getting ready to bring you to the party,” Jasper says, a merry twinkle in his eye.

“Yeah.” A wistful smile drifts across David’s face. “I bet that’s what it is.”


End file.
